Crushed Clay
by Concetta
Summary: Morita comforts a still heartbroken Yamada after months of her dealing with the fact of Mayama and Rika finally together. One Shot.


A/N: I don't own "Honey and Clover." I wish I did. Then Morita would be mine! Bwahaha! This is my first try at a Honey and Clover fic. Its sort of a wish fulfillment one-shot, what I would like to see happen sort of thing . . . Tell me if I get any of the names wrong, I can't keep them straight sometimes in this series.

Crushed Clay

Ayumi Yamada dreaded sleep sometimes because when she lay in bed thoughts of Mayama would crowd her. On those days she stayed late in the ceramics room, molding new creations, pouring her frustrations into them.

"Yamada-chan!"

Ayu started and accidentally crushed the bowl she had been working on.

"Ah . . . Yama—"

"MORIIIITAAAAAAA BAKAAAAAA!"

A flying kick from Ayu connected with the lazy college kid's face.

Shinobu Morita had made it a ritual to see Ayu every evening in the ceramics building and listen to her worries ever since he found her there crying her eyes out over Mayama on another such evening months ago.

"Mayama has Rika . . ." Yamada murmured to her ruined clay bowl.

"Takemoto has Hagu . . ."

Yamada's head shot up, Morita's statement momentarily distracting her from her own troubles. "Hagu-chan? You like Hagu?"

Morita blanched then reddened. "I didn't say that!" he screamed, getting himself worked up.

"I can picture Hagu and Takemoto as perfect for each other, given their height. They are so sweet together. But, when I picture you and Hagu-chan it seems . . . awkward. I mean— you'd have to pick her up to kiss her. If you got married, on your wedding night . . . she'd be smothered."

"GAHHH! Yamada-chan! How vulgar!" Now Morita was close to hysterics.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Morita-san, you're so naïve. Take my advice and find a girl to date who is at least half your height."

Morita appeared to be considering her statement then leaned down and brought his face close to hers, as if to scrutinize every pore.

"Like you?" He asked with a grin.

Yamada knew that Morita was teasing but then why was she blushing?

"What are you making?" The lazy college student asked.

"Don't you mean what _was_ I making? When you came in and startled me I accidentally crushed it."

"Oh." Morita leaned down and inspected it. "I think it looks better this way." He straightened and treated Yamada to a large grin.

"YOU JERK!"

Morita somehow dodged Yamada's flying fist and grabbed the wrist that was now level with his right ear. He looked at the young potter and was started when he saw tears streaming down her face. Morita let go of her wrist as if burned.

"Gomen, Yamada-chan, did I hurt you?"

Yamada just shook her head and continued to cry.

"I'm sorry about your pottery."

She still sobbed. Morita's heart sank. It seemed he could hardly remember the last time Yamada smiled. All she seemed to do was weep these days. He wished desperately that he could do something to stop the tears. He wanted to see her happy again. It had suddenly become the most important thing in the world to him.

Before he could dwell on this further Yamada suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Yama—"

"Am I ugly?" she exclaimed.

"Uh . . ." Morita was a little too frightened at the moment to give a coherent answer.

"Am I too tall? Too fat? Should I cut my hair really short? Why did he . . . ? What makes her . . . ? She couldn't continue and her head bowed under the weight of her self-deprecation.

In the midst of her new tears she was surprised to feel Morita's hand touch the side of her face. Yamada looked up and was greeted by a soft and comforting smile. His hand was so warm. She remembered when he had been there for her that one evening when she had once again wept over Mayama. They had walked home together. He had held her hand and they had admired the lights of the ferris wheel.

"Morita . . . san?"

"Don't change." His face wore a serious expression the like Yamada had never seen on him before. "Don't change your hair, your eyes, your anything! Remain Ayumi, because that's who you are meant to be. I think Mayama needs a stronger pair of glasses. If he doesn't appreciate having a beautiful woman like Yamada-chan in love with him I think he doesn't have a clear view of you. You are a nice girl, Yamada-chan.

Suddenly, Morita stopped, seemingly exhausted from saying so many serious words at once.

"Morita-san . . ." Yamada had felt her face grow hot under such praise and her heart had begun to race. A remaining tear slipped out of her eye and slid down her cheek. "Arigatou."

On impulse, Yamada leaned forward and gave Morita a quick peck on the lips. A bolt of electricity seemed to race through her blood at the brief sensation of touching his lips with hers. Her heart jumped. Yamada stood there and stared at Morita, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of unexpected feelings. Morita appeared to be in a state of complete shock and confusion as well.

Before Yamada could stammer a word of apology, Morita's arm came around her waist and, dipping her back, gave her an old fashioned Hollywood kiss. A very long old fashioned Hollywood kiss. Yamada found herself wrapping her arms around his neck. Was this what they called "on the rebound"? but, if it was then why did it feel so right?

Morita straightened but kept his hold on her waist and Yamada kept her arms about his neck. She noticed that the top of her head fit under his chin perfectly like a puzzle piece.

Shyly Ayumi raised her head to look Shinobu in the eyes and saw new affection blooming there.

"Walk me home . . . Shinobu-kun?" Ayu asked quietly, not trusting her own voice to be steady.

Shinobu bobbed his head eagerly and they walked out into the twilight leaving behind the crushed clay still on the wheel.

The End

A/N: It was worth a shot. I enjoyed writing it. Yamada and Morita are my favorite characters. My friend Ashley said that she thought Morita and Yamada should get together and I agreed and so came the idea to write a fan fiction. Hurray! Now, you must review, please!


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